


Closure

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Castiel Knows About the Doctor, Coda, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Gen, Humor, Immortals, Internal Monologue, Jack Harkness Flirts, Jack being Jack, M/M, Self-Doubt, Spoilers After Children of the Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give me… a sign. Because if you don't, I'm gonna just-I'm gonna do whatever I…whatever I must."</p><p>Before Castiel's helium-filled head can deflate on his shoulders, a giant electric blue vortex, like a strobe light for Goliath himself, tears through the atmosphere in front of him. Like a scentless but strong belch, a gust of wind comes with it, sending Cas's arm flying to cover his face.</p><p>Sooner than later, the vortex closes with the same effort that comes from sucking through a reusable straw.</p><p>That is, until a spitball shoots out.</p><p>"How's that for a sign?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a crossover AU - more so a Torchwood/SPN crossover. I just feel like Castiel and Jack would have so much to talk about.

 

"Give me… a _sign_. Because if you don't, I'm gonna just-I'm gonna do whatever I…whatever I must."

Before Castiel's helium-filled head can deflate on his shoulders, a giant electric blue vortex, like a strobe light for Goliath himself, tears through the atmosphere in front of him. Like a scentless but strong belch, a gust of wind comes with it, sending Cas's arm flying to cover his face.

Sooner than later, the vortex closes with the same effort that comes from sucking through a reusable straw.

That is, until a spitball shoots out.

The saliva sphere in question falls to the snow-skattered earth with the grace of an unrooted flower. Upon closer speculation, Cas can make out a black trenchcoat over a light blue button down, and the top of a bird's nest of hair. Judging by the muscular crotched frame, it's a man. (Human, judging by the portal, doubtful.) His suspicions are confirmed when rich blue eyes flicker to Cas's before he dusts himself off. Cas registers the thing plastered on his face as a grin - something he doesn't see a lot of anymore in light of recent events.

"How's that for a sign?"

Cas's eyebrows create an unfinished bridge between troubled waters. "Excuse me?"

"How big does this sign have to be?" he asks. As he nears closer, Cas drinks in the blocky device around his left wrist. It blinks blue like the vortex. "For those lips, I'd have brought the TARDIS."

Cas huffs a laugh.

“What? Tell me. I like jokes.”

“You’re a Doctor.”

It’s the man’s turn to laugh, “Sure, and I have a Bad Case of Lovin’ You.”

“I-” Before Cas can say _I don’t understand that reference,_ the man with the raven coat holds up his hand. “But if you’re not a Doctor, who are you?”

“Jack Harkness, Captain,” the man replies, holding out the same hand, “But I knew the Doctor. Multiple, actually. It wasn’t like you’re thinking, though. Believe me, I’ve tried.” There’s a wink, but Cas can’t see it when his head returns to hanging like a wet jumpsuit on a clothesline. Jack pulls his hand back and plops next to Cas. His eyes shift from him to the scenery, which is as stripped as Cas would like to be of his vanity. “The strong, silent type, I see. My boyfriend was the same way.”

Cas’s eyes flicker to the side of the bench holding the uninvited occupant. “What happened?”

“Me.”

Cas meets Jack’s eyes. There’s something swimming in the sea of them that speaks beyond words. It’s like there’s the same fish his brother warned him about—the one that had big plans—in them.

Only the fish inside Jack’s eyes isn’t floating with purpose. It’s as if the fish drowned in its own environment, suffocated by a crippling reality.

Castiel can relate.

“I’m sorry,” he says, as if those words would fix anything—as if they _ever_ fixed anything.

Jack leans back with a sigh, “Yeah, immortality’s a bitch, that’s for sure.”

Cas cracks the smallest of smiles. He can _definitely_ relate to that, but: “You remind me of someone.”

“Did you lose someone too?”

“I lost him a long time ago.”

Jack nods. “You know, I’ve traveled everywhere. For the job, mostly. But I never traveled as much as I did after Ianto. I don’t know I just feel like I’m…”

“Floating?”

Jack laughs, though there’s no humor behind it. “Yeah.”

“Castiel,” Cas offers.

“No last name?”

Cas tilts his head. “Should I have one?”

“No, it’s just, that’s a little… _promiscuous_ , don’t you think?”

Cas frowns, recalling the night he and Dean spent in that brothel—how baffled Dean was to hear Castiel’s lack of sexual encounters, and how excited he was to take him to a den of inequity. How nervous Castiel had been in the hands of Chastity, how angry she was with him and how mirthful Dean was after baring witness. Confused, but welcomed by the embrace of Dean and his laugh, Castiel drank it in faster than any lager.  

“I’m an Angel of the Lord,” he clarifies. “Though, I’m not too sure about the title anymore.”

“Why’s that?” Cas shrugs. He knows exactly why. What he’d _like_ to know is why he screws the pooch, as Dean would say, with the people he loves—why he can’t side with heaven _and_ humanity. “Have you been doing a little cloud seeding with this guy?”

Cas scoffs, “Most certainly _not.”_

“Do you want to?”

 _This is not what I meant by a sign,_ Cas thinks, turning his head up to silently curse the vast sky. “Dean,” he says, drawing out his name, “is a man of many complexities.”

“So he’s a _sex_ metrical. Not what I asked, Cas.”

“I want him,” he replies with finality. What’s that called? Closure? Possibly. It feels too heavy to be closure. “More than just in the physical sense, though.”

“You love him.”

It sounds so easy coming from someone else’s mouth. But from the human perspective, it’s a tragedy. From the celestial perspective, a sin. And from Castiel’s, an enigma. “Yes.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure if he still loves me.”

Cas half-expects Jack to crack another joke, or throw an obvious observation at him, such as, well, how _sitting here_ is helping his situation any, but instead, he turns to Cas with a gleam in his eye—a small speck of light reflecting from a distant lighthouse, and says, “You know how I knew Ianto was in love with me?” He pauses for a smile. “He forgave me.”

Castiel frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, all the times I put him in danger, all the times I never kissed him—hell, even all the times I never so much as _looked_ at him—he forgave me. If your lover boy’s done that, then he’s always felt the same way.” Jack leans into Cas, adding, “And if he doesn’t, I would _gladly_ take you off his hands.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah, I’d have you singing ‘Ode to Joy’ like you’ve _never_ —” Cas angles his head until Jack can only see the expanse of Cas’s wrinkled forehead. Jack laughs, “Yes. I really think so.”

“Okay.”

“ _Okay?”_

“What do you want me to say?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jack scoffs. “I _want_ you to say you’ll do whatever you must.”

Cas smiles for the first time in a while. _That_ feels like closure. “Mark my words, Captain.”

In a flutter, Cas is gone.


End file.
